Why Aren’t We Saints? – Page 2

Jan 21

Screwtape: Master of Misdirection

By JonMarc Grodi | Why Aren't We Saints? | One Comment

This passage comes from chapter VI of C.S. Lewis’ The Screwtape Letters, the correspondence between a senior demon, Uncle Screwtape, and his pupil, Wormwood. This is a favorite passage of mine because like all of Lewis’ work, it is such an eminently practical bit of insight into the the interplay of temptation, grace, and our free will.

“An important spiritual law is here involved. I have explained that you can weaken his prayers by diverting his attention from the Enemy Himself to his own state of mind about the Enemy. On the other hand fear becomes easier to master when the patient’s mind is diverted from the thing feared to the fear itself, considered as a present and undesirable state of his own mind; and when he regards the fear as his appointed cross he will inevitably think of it as a state of mind. One can therefore formulate the general rule; in all activities of mind which favour our cause, encourage the patient to be unself-conscious and to concentrate on the object, but in all activities favourable to the Enemy bend his mind back on itself. Let an insult or a woman’s body so fix his attention outward that he does not reflect ‘I am now entering into the state called Anger–or the state called Lust.’ Contrariwise let the reflection ‘My feelings are now growing more devout, or more charitable’ so fix his attention inward that he no longer looks beyond himself to see our Enemy or his own neighbors.” (emphasis added)

What Screwtape is saying in the first part, roughly translated into our terms and context, is this:

When we are in a negative mental or emotional state or experiencing temptation (i.e. fear, anger, lust, etc), we must take note that Wormwood or Uncle Screwtape will attempt to keep our attention focused outward – on the thing feared, the person or situation at which we are becoming angry, or the object of our lust. In a situation like this, Screwtape wants to keep our attention outward and away from the actually cross we are being called to carry at the moment. Consider an earlier passage:

“What the Enemy means by this is primarily that he should accept with patience the tribulation which has actually been dealt out to him – the present anxiety and suspense. It is about this that he is to say “Thy will be done”, and for the daily task of bearing this that the daily bread will be provided. It is your business to see that the patient never thinks of the present fear as his appointed cross but only of the things he is afraid of.”

In any situation where some strong negative emotion, passion, or temptation is present, we will be tempted to put reason and awareness out of our minds. One reason for this is so that we keep from checking ourselves, identifying an occasion of sin, and avoiding it. Another reason however, is to confuse us as to the actual task or cross at hand. Lewis continues:

“Let him regard them (things the patient is afraid of) as his crosses: let him forget that, since they are incompatible, they cannot all happen to him, and let him try to practise fortitude and patience to them all in advance. For real resignation, at the same moment, to a dozen different and hypothetical fates, is almost impossible, and the Enemy does not greatly assist those who are trying to attain it: resignation to present and actual suffering, even where that suffering consists of fear, is far easier and is usually helped by this direct action.”

Often in a state of fear or anxiety, we let ourselves worry about many future potentialities that may or may not come to pass and in doing so, despair in the present. However, it is only the fear of the present moment we need to worry about. When we are angry, we are often so fixated on the person or situation, how obnoxious they/it are and how to fix them, that we forget that this present experience of annoyance or anger is itself what we are first and foremost called to embrace with virtue. In a state of lust, it is easy to linger long in the occasion of temptation, enjoying the thrill of almost but not quite giving in, never really looking inward to take stock of the danger we are entertaining. We must remain aware of our passions and thoughts in the present moment and make prudent choices to avoid occasions of temptation.

The second part of Screwtape’s “general rule” is that when we are in any positive mental or emotional state or experiencing the movement of grace, the temptation will be to focus on the thoughts, emotions, or movements themselves, rather than on the source of these (God) or on perhaps the intended recipient, our neighbor.

When we pray, Screwtape now wants us to be concerned with our feelings and thoughts rather than the object of our prayer, God. When we do good, he wants us to think of the good we are doing and how great we are for doing it. Ideally, he would like to relegate our goodness and virtue to theory alone, and keep it out of practice altogether.

“The great thing is to direct the malice to his immediate neighbours whom he meets every day and to thrust his benevolence out to the remote circumference, to people he does not know. The malice thus becomes wholly real and the benevolence largely imaginary. There is no good at all in inflaming his hatred of Germans if, at the same time, a pernicious habit of charity is growing up between him and his mother, his employer, and the man he meets in the train. Think of your man as a series of concentric circles, his will being the innermost, his intellect coming next, and finally his fantasy. You can hardly hope, at once, to exclude from all the circles everything that smells of the Enemy: but you must keep on shoving all the virtues outward till they are finally located in the circle of fantasy, and all the desirable (sinful) qualities inward into the Will.”

So, in time of trial and tribulation, identify the present and actual cross – i.e. whatever emotional or passionate or tempting state you are in. Endeavor to make the right decision now, whether to persevere with patience, fight, or flee, and deal only with future/potential fears or tasks or crosses when they arrive, and not until then.

On the other hand, when you pray or do good works, be in the moment, turn outward, and endeavor to forget about yourself. In the words of G.K. Chesterton “let your religion be less of a theory and more of a love affair.”

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With a topic like this, discussion of additional anecdotes and examples may be helpful for all listening. So, do you have any examples, whether personal or general, of either end of Screwtape’s general principle? In other words examples of either a) the temptation to ignore our internal state during fear, anger, lust, etc or b) to be fixated on our internal state during prayer or good works.

Nov 04

What Faith Is and Isn’t – Fr. Robert Barron

By JonMarc Grodi | Culture, Truth, Uncategorized, Why Aren't We Saints? | 2 Comments

Here is another among the many excellent videos by Fr. Robert Barron. The video clarifies the common but (I think) often misused or misunderstood term “faith”.

This particular video caught my eye and then my immense interest and excitement upon watching because Fr. Barron beautifully and concisely explains faith as it needs to be explained to the modern mind, for whom the word has so much baggage that it almost loses all meaning.

Using human relationships as an analogy, Fr. Barron shows how faith is not only normal but necessary in our relationships with both the human and the divine . In his example, Fr. Barron explains that while we can and do use our reason to learn much about another person, there is a whole world of knowledge about that person we will never know without them telling us: their thoughts, feelings, hopes, dreams, desires, goals, etc. To know a person on this level we must listen to them speak and at some point make the choice to trust what they say. Without this trust, human relationships are impossible. ( I once used a very similar example and line of thought in a talk I gave to high schoolers about the nature of faith. Great minds think alike, and mediocre minds, like mine, sometimes get lucky.)

This is insightful because faith is seldom thought of or talked about in a relational sense. Often faith is reduced by both believers and nonbelievers to being blind belief, superstition, or a mere wager on God’s potential existence based on the probabilities of risk and reward. But this is simply not what Catholics mean by religious faith.

In article 26 of the Catechism of the Catholic Church it states, “faith is man’s response to God, who reveals himself and gives himself to man”. Humans cannot initiate faith on our own (as they could if faith simply were an act of blind belief or a bet). Rather, faith is a relational response to God. God reveals himself and it is our decision to trust this revelation and act upon it which constitutes faith.

I think this idea of faith clarifies and makes sense out of a term that is often used quite vaguely. However, I think it is also challenging. It implies that faith really is about an encounter with God, a relationship with God. It is about trusting and obeying a live author who entered His own story in the person of Jesus Christ and remains present and approachable in prayer and in the sacraments of the Church.

If, contrary to its detractors, faith is not mere blind belief, superstition, or a cosmic wager, but rather a “yes” to the God who reveals Himself to us in Christ, the Word, through the natural world, art, beauty, the Church, the sacraments, and in our own hearts, there are important questions to be pondered by believers and non-believers alike.

Have I rejected or feared “faith” because I thought it was superstition or a blind jump? Am I open enough to Truth that I would accept and put faith in God if I really did encounter Him? Have I really sought God Himself or rather just some mental proposition about God? Though I purport to “believe”, have I avoided this kind of faith in God for fear that He may not really be there? Have I avoided this kind of faith in God for fear that He really might be there after all, and want more from me than I am willing to give?

Here are a couple of my articles that ask and ponder similar questions:

Eucharistic Adoration: Alone with the Perilous Question

Two Fears – The Reasons We Avoid Discovering Whether God Is Really There

The com-box is open. I would love to know your thoughts!

Oct 06

Eucharistic Adoration: Alone with the Perilous Question

By JonMarc Grodi | Prayer, Why Aren't We Saints? | 21 Comments

In December of 2010 my wife was leading a bible study on the Theology of the Body at our local Dominican parish, St. Thomas Aquinas. A couple of weeks before Christmas due to her having a cold on the scheduled night for the study, I myself bundled up and trekked out into the snow to lead the study in her place.

Due to the snow, the vigil mass for the Feast of the Immaculate Conception, and little bit of scheduling confusion, only one other person showed up. As a result, I and the other gentleman only stuck very loosely to my wife’s discussion points about “Christ as the new Adam” and ended up simply pursuing tangents and enjoying our conversation. Somehow or another, we ended up talking lengthily about our love for and wonderful experiences of Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament.

For those who might not be familiar, Eucharistic Adoration or Benediction is the practice of “adoring” Our Lord in the Eucharist. Our Lord Jesus Christ, present to us as the consecrated bread and wine, is placed on the altar in the church. The faithful come to pray, worship and adore Him in this Blessed Sacrament.

It was moving, to say the least, to find myself on a cold snowy night sitting in the conference room of the parish center, sipping coffee and listening to this gentleman – many years my senior – share his love for the devotion.

It came into the conversation that Eucharistic Adoration could be very inspiring and invigorating to lukewarm believers, as it had often been to both of us. We observed that the faith was, for many of our fellow parishioners, little more than a habit. Many were very involved with the parish, but few seemed to really know Jesus Christ. It was great to see people involved with the liturgies and events – to see new members being received into the Church and receiving the sacraments for the first time. However so many of them seemed to pass quickly through the various programs and initiations only to settle into a comfortable, complacent “Sunday morning at 10:00” Catholicism.

One reason we decided upon for this rut was that many people who became active in the church had not previously come to know Jesus Christ – in fact maybe they never even knew that they could have a personal relationship with their God or that that was the kind of relationship He wanted. These misconceptions are unfortunate ones. The Catholic faith is tasked with making Christ present in the world, making Him present in the sacraments. Yet many people to go through all the programs, prayers, and motions and somehow miss the person of Christ, the most important part of the faith. Even among those Catholics who attend the holy sacrifice of the mass every week, there are still many who would balk or stare at their feet were the doctrine of the “real presence” of Christ in the Eucharist explained in their midst.

With all this in mind we conjectured that Eucharistic adoration, if we were able to get people to attend, could be particularly effective in trying to fill in that crucial gap in the faith lives of many Catholics in our community. The devotion is unique and powerful in the simple and frank way in which it faces the participant with the presence of Christ. In addition, the meditative silence that usually accompanies a Holy Hour is uniquely purifying. We agreed that more people ought to be persuaded – nay, dared – to try a Holy Hour.

In fact our conversation confirmed what I have thought for a while: Not just that Adoration is a great devotion (for the obvious reasons) but that it is a particularly great devotion for the souls of modern men and women (for slightly less obvious reasons). It is my opinion that Eucharistic Adoration could be that spark that finally starts thawing a few of our many “frozen chosen”. Let me explain.

Consider the following scriptural image which is quite applicable to our modern day:

[2] For men will be lovers of self, lovers of money, proud, arrogant, abusive, disobedient to their parents, ungrateful, unholy,
[3] inhuman, implacable, slanderers, profligates, fierce, haters of good,
[4] treacherous, reckless, swollen with conceit, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God,
[5] holding the form of religion but denying the power of it. Avoid such people. (2 timothy 3:5)

Now the line I am most interested in is that last one. What does it mean to “[hold] the form of religion but [deny] the power of it”?

There are a variety of causes causing a variety of ills, but that last image is, I believe, most telling. You see, people are comfortable with “morality”. They are comfortable with “church”. They are comfortable with “causes”, and “values”, and “goodness”, and even “God”, to a certain degree. However they are not comfortable with Christ Himself. Many of my fellow parishioners, dear souls that they are, are quite friendly and sociable talking to me about youth groups and turkey dinners and church renovations and Christmas concerts. However, when I try to bring up Jesus Christ, conversion, the Holy Spirit, or experiencing Our Lord in the Eucharist, awkwardness ensues.

Sadness, rather than indignation, is the emotion triggered by such attempted conversations. People need Jesus Christ and deep down they want Jesus Christ. But many people keep the “power” of religion, our Lord Himself, at a distance.

While there are among the many causes of our spiritual estrangement, there are two fears that often cause people to hold tight to their lukewarmness – that keep them from asking the perilous question: “Are you there God?”.

Some people avoid a real pursuit of God because they are afraid that he doesn’t really exist. People like the idea of God and all the other ideas that accompany Him but they are not confident that there is much beyond the idea. To press the idea, to question it, and to suggest that one really can come to know God personally – this brings the blissfully and intentionally ignorant person far too close to the perilous question. While the desire for God is strong, the fear of asking a question which could yield disappointing answers is stronger.

Other people fear to pursue God because, as C.S. Lewis explains, they are afraid they might actually find Him. He says:

An “impersonal God”– well and good. A subjective God of beauty, truth and goodness, inside our own heads — better still. A formless life-force surging through us, a vast power which we can tap — best of all. But God Himself, alive, pulling at the other end of the cord, perhaps, approaching an infinite speed, the hunter, king, husband — that is quite another matter. There comes a moment when the children who have been playing at burglars hush suddenly: was that a real footstep in the hall? There comes a moment when people who have been dabbling in religion (“Man’s search for God!”) suddenly draw back. Supposing we really found Him? We never meant it to come to that! Worse still, supposing He had found us? –C. S. Lewis

To face up to the tough questions, to face up to the “power of religion” is to face up to the possibility that Christ really is there pursuing us, desiring us, and calling us out. Along with the pervading propaganda of our culture, we dislike the mere suggestion that we still have room to grow, that we have a destiny, duty, and responsibility.

Because of these two fears, we latch on to morality or ritual or causes or values or lingo or community. We latch onto something that is “safe”, anything that can keep us occupied and make us “look busy” but which will never bring us face to face with the”power of religion” which is Jesus Christ Himself.

Have you ever wondered why people can talk endlessly about morality, values, church, worship, prayer, and even “God”, etc etc etc, but are uncomfortable talking about “Jesus”? The reason for this is that Jesus is where the “rubber meets the road”. He is what makes the transcendent God present in the world. He is the “word”, the “light of the world”. It is easy for most people to talk of religion or “God” but hard for them to talk about Jesus, because He is the point at which those two meet. Without Jesus Christ, man is relatively “safe” from God.

As a result “Jesus” is an uncomfortable name for people to say. That Christ is present is an uncomfortable suggestion. That Christ is present physically as a tiny communion host, sitting on a stone altar in your local church… more uncomfortable still. Uncomfortable, but oh so simple, clear, shocking, and utterly unabashed.

This brings us back to the power of Eucharistic Adoration, specifically for the sick soul of modern man. Like a wound that needs to be cauterized by fire or purified by alcohol, our hearts need to be brought where they are afraid to go. They need to be faced with the real fear and peril of asking ” Are you there God?”. He may not be there, and I may be heartbroken in disappointment. He may indeed be there, and my heart may be rent with love, convicted, burned, and purified more than I am presently comfortable with.

The beauty of Eucharistic Adoration is in the utter simplicity and clarity with which it faces us with the perilous question. There are few other prayers or liturgies that are so simple, so clear, so shockingly frank.

This is an extremely powerful antidote for the confusion and malaise that faces men and women of our time. It is powerful because it is uncomfortable. It forces us out of lukewarmness. It perfectly sets the stage for a modern man or woman to face up to the perilous question. It is a question we will otherwise avoid as long as possible knowing that once it is out there, our lives will not be able to be the same.

There is however a second aspect of Eucharistic Adoration that is of infinite practical import and must not be overlooked: It is silence.

Soren Kierkegaard stated:

“If I were a physician, and if I were allowed to prescribe just one remedy for all the ills of the modern world, I would prescribe silence. For even if the Word of God were proclaimed in the modern world, how could one hear it with so much noise? Therefore, create silence.”

We live in a world completely filled with noise, and I am not just talking about physically audible sounds. Consider how loud our world is physically, mentally, and emotionally. When do we ever get a break from all the noise?

Most of us don’t and that is why we have no spiritual silence either.

Usually we think of ourselves as victims of noise but I would suggest that this is simply self-deception become habit. In the book “Finding Sanctuary”, Chistopher Jamison discusses this phenomena. He states:

People speak and act as if being busy is a force beyond their control, as if somewhere back in history a malign spirit of busyness invaded the planet. There was a time, in the good old days, when people had time, and life moved at an easy pace. But modern society changed all that, and now we are stuck with a way of life that is a breathless rush. “People don’t have time like they used to” – and we all nod in agreement.

and later…

…if somebody says they are too busy, then either they are too busy or they think they are too busy. Either way, the responsibility lies with them; they choose to lead a busy life, or they choose to think that they do.

You and I are only as busy and our lives only as noisy as we make them or let them become. The reason we so instinctively deceive ourselves on this issue is that noise and busyness are often additional ways we keep from facing God.

Think about it. Why are silences so awkward? Why are we practically terrified of boredom? Why is it so excruciating for us to simply sit still nowadays? The truth is that noise and busyness can become like any other “attachment” which takes the place of or distracts us from God.

In the same ways that we cling to all manner of the “forms of religion” while avoiding real contact with Christ, we fill our lives with noisiness, busyness, and distraction to keep from hearing God’s voice. Nearly all of us, if we had less noisiness in our lives, would begin to notice things we were missing or passively ignoring. We’d notice the people in our life that are hurting or who need us but who we ignore. We’d become aware of little failings that we repeat over and over without improvement or effort. We’d realize our selfishness because we’d be more aware of the needs of others, etc.

There are many little realizations that we would have to face up to if we ever sat still for a moment – this is one of the reasons our modern world is so eager for constant and instant gratification, so insistent on having interminable noise and busyness, and is so absolutely terrified of being “bored”. The noise and busyness protect us from the “still small voice” of the lord, most perilous of all, and this is one of the reasons we hold on to the noise in our lives. Because of this, it is also the silence of Eucharistic adoration that make it such a prime opportunity for men and women to come to know Christ.

My challenge, thus, is this: When you have decided you are ready to know God better, to seek truth and accept no substitutes, and to face not only your fears but also the desire, deep down, to really come to know God…. Eucharistic Adoration is a perfect place to start.

Be open to the desire to know Him. Ask the perilous questions. Give the noise time to die down and the silence time to sink in. Don’t give up, even if the process is agonizing.

He is waiting for you.

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“Be still, and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10)

It is pleasant to spend time with Him, to lie close to His breast like the Beloved Disciple and to feel the infinite love present in His Heart….how can we not feel a renewed need to spend time in spiritual converse, in silent adoration, in heartfelt love before Christ present in the Most Holy Sacrament?
– Pope John Paul II

We too are called to withdraw at certain intervals into deeper silence and aloneness with God….
not with our books, thoughts, and memories but completely stripped of everything,
to dwell lovingly in God’s presence – silent, empty, expectant, and motionless.
– Blessed Teresa of Calcutta

Silence is something more than just a pause; it is that enchanted place where space is cleared and time is stayed and the horizon itself expands. In silence, we often say, we can hear ourselves think; but what is truer to say is that in silence we can hear ourselves not think….In silence, we might better say, we can hear someone else think.
– Pico Iyer

Sep 20

Why I Pray Boring Prayers

By JonMarc Grodi | Prayer, Uncategorized, Why Aren't We Saints? | 17 Comments

Rosaries Repetitious prayer is one of those “Catholic things” for which we receive criticism from other sectors of the Christian community. The scripture verse concerning “vain repetition” is often quoted as evidence of a biblical incongruity with Catholic practice. It is however not a conclusive argument, as Catholics point out that the vice is the vanity, not necessarily the repetition.

Nevertheless, despite the weakness of this objection to Catholic prayers such as the Rosary, Catholics are not always able to respond with positive support for their Catholic practices. I must admit that for a long time, though I was unconvinced by arguments for why repetitious Catholic prayer was wrong, I was nevertheless not wholly convinced of its usefulness or value.

I think at times, as I struggled with the Rosary and daily prayer from the Divine Office, I concluded that perhaps I was “doing it wrong” because I didn’t feel anything. Often I would lose my place in the Rosary or realize that I had gone through a whole set of prayers and not once consciously focused on what I was saying or to whom I was saying it. I figured that something needed fixing in me before these prayers would feel right or mean anything.

My relationship with Teresa Grodi – my significant other of three years, and my wife of one – has yielded many spiritual and personal insights. One of these has been to draw a connection between my experience of the natural progression of a human relationship and my experience of progress in prayer, particularly in regular, routine, and often repetitious prayer.

Concerning my human relationship, my experience followed what common sense (and our parents, priests, and any sensible contributor of relationship advice) tells us about the progression of committed relationships: Infatuation doesn’t last and must inevitably give way to something better, though only as a result of work and perseverance. With perseverance, what develops in its place is a stable, peaceful, mature, long-term relationship that can continually increase in passion, richness, and depth.

Now, I am well aware of my youth and of the relative brevity of my marriage, and thus do not purport to be able to effectively report on this progression in a very long-term sense. Nevertheless, already I have observed this natural arc in many aspects of my relationship.

A concrete example I offer is of my experience of saying the words “I love you”.

The first time I told my then-girlfriend/now-wife Teresa that I loved her, the words had tremendous force to them. They brought her to tears as I said them and rocked my world as I heard them returned. With the simple utterance of these three words, our worlds could never be the same.

The second and third time I told her I loved her were almost as tremendous. The fifth and sixth were less so, but still powerful, and as the phrase began to be a normal part of our relationship, the emotional impact that accompanied them lessened.

I remember pondering this at one point and becoming discouraged. Were these words going to simply become more and more mundane? Were they going to lose their meaning and passion entirely? Should I even say “I love you” during the times that I didn’t particularly feel “in love”?

I didn’t know the answer. But I continued to tell her “I love you” and to express those words through my actions as best as I could, even and especially during the times when I didn’t feel it. I am happy to report that common sense, parents, priests, and other sensible contributors of relationship advice are correct: While infatuation may fade, with perseverance, what takes its place is something stronger, richer, and deeper than the infatuation stages of a dating relationship.

Looking back at those dry times, I am glad I didn’t stop saying “I love you” just because I was experiencing an absence of happy feelings. Far from losing their meaning, the words have become a source of comfort, intimacy, and joy – invaluable during times of trial and a treasure during times of peace.

What does all of this rambling about relationships have to do with repetitious prayer? The “arc” that I have experienced in aspects of my human relationship I have also encountered in aspects of my heavenly one: regular, routine, daily prayer to my Father in heaven, which is much like the regular, routine, daily “I love you” to my spouse on earth.

When I experienced my adult conversion and began to take my daily walk with God seriously, even the most mundane daily prayer was easy. In particular, I started out very enthusiastically praying the Rosary and my Breviary, but both quickly became very regular and routine. For those not familiar, the rosary is a long sequence of The Lord’s Prayer, the Hail Mary, and the Glory Be all prayed in meditation on the mysteries of Christ’s earthly life. The Divine office is a specific set of daily prayers, readings, and responses, that are recited at various times of the day. The Divine Office or Liturgy of the Hours is the epitome of routine in its repetition of similar readings, responses, as well as the order and form of the daily devotion. As I struggled to continue praying these prayers, I became discouraged at the absence of the passion I had felt during my initial undertaking of these devotions.

My thoughts echoed those I experienced in my human relationship and those that I suspect occur to many people in regards to routine or repetitious prayer: Is this it? Are these beautiful words going to simply continue to sound more dull and mundane? Is it even worth praying if I don’t “feel” anything?

After a couple years of staying more or less faithful to praying my breviary soon after waking, one morning in the silence of the chapel something “clicked”. After struggling for months to remain attentive and sincere about the words I was praying, suddenly I began to hear the words as if for the first time and found them being spoken with a new voice. After struggling long through the mundanity of daily prayer, my soul now seemed quiet enough to finally listen. Though I no longer have access to a physical chapel in the mornings, the Divine Office – in all its routine and repetition – brings me back to that quiet, inner-chapel every day.

I experienced the same “arc” with the rosary. I started out with enthusiasm, eventually became discouraged by my waning passion and attentiveness, but in the end – after many rosaries – began to notice a new quiet peacefulness in my soul. Suddenly each individual prayer seemed to have new power and each mystery of Christ’s life – which we meditate on while saying the rosary – began to come alive.

In these experiences, I have found great joy and intimacy in my relationship with God through prayer that for a long time seemed mundane and even tiresome. While I think it would certainly be a mistake for me to claim that quiet, routine, and repetitive prayer is inherently better than, say, spontaneous prayer, I think it is also a mistake for people to assume that prayer is more authentic, sincere, or powerful simply because it is articulate, loud, impassioned, or spontaneous. If this were the case, the less creative pray-ers, like myself, would be naturally worse pray-ers (and to draw the correlation regarding relationships, the non-romantic types – unlike myself – would be naturally bad lovers). I think in either case, the quality of prayer has little to do with us beyond our sincere attempt at praying – God can take it from there.

Simply by the nature of our relationships, whether human or divine, there will always be some aspect of repetition, or routine, or mundanity. Why? Because whether the object of our love is another human being or God almighty, our hearts are fickle and will continually be susceptible to distraction. Our hearts will at times be bored by things that should inflame them with passion or indifferent to things that should bring them to tears – this is just human nature.

When we experience dry times, it is easy to get caught in the trap of thinking that our actions proceed from our feelings or drives rather than from our wills. The result is that we become convinced that we can only say and do loving things IF we still have the loving feelings. But our actions are not dependent on our feelings. In fact, the opposite is true: our hearts will inevitably follow where our wills lead.

We must keep on praying, even and especially when the passion is lacking, for our hearts will eventually come around and follow our wills. Just like always saying “I love you” to our spouse no matter what mood we are in, perseverance in repetitious prayers like the Rosary can get us through the dry times in our spiritual life. But even more than that, I think we will find these prayers becoming the brick and mortar of beautiful inner chapels where we learn to walk and talk with God intimately, and at all times. Eventually, these little, mundane, repetitious, routine, faithful…. acts of love, will become unmatched sources of joy and grace in our lives.

Never stop praying, and never stop saying “I love you”.

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How to pray the Rosary: http://www.newadvent.org/images/rosary.pdf

More information about the Liturgy of the Hours: http://www.ewtn.com/expert/answers/breviary.htm

Great website to help you get started praying the Divine Office/Liturgy of the Hours: http://divineoffice.org/

Jun 22

JonMarc on Deep In Scripture discussing faith

By JonMarc Grodi | Philosophy and Culture, Prayer, Why Aren't We Saints? | One Comment

Today I joined my father Marcus Grodi on his radio program Deep In Scripture. We talked about one of my favorite topics which: trying to get at a very basic, foundational understanding of what faith is.

The word “faith” is tossed around so much, sometimes interchangeably with “belief” or “trust” and the meaning of it gets very watered down. It is such a presumed part of the life of a Catholic or Christian, that it often “goes without saying”. But the culture’s presuppositions about faith get into our psyche and pretty soon our understanding of faith is informed more by the scoffs and criticism of our detractors, rather than our Church and our Scriptures.

Is faith just “belief” or “trust”? Is it something we do or something that God does? Is it simply Pascal’s wager, as it is reduced to in so many Philosophy 101 classes? What does it mean to have faith? What does it really look like to put faith in God?

Nov 16

Responding to Vice with Virtue

By JonMarc Grodi | Why Aren't We Saints? | 4 Comments

It seems to me to be a matter of common sense that vices are best treated by their corresponding virtues.

For instance, the prideful man must pray for and practice humility, the selfish and greedy man must look for opportunities to be generous and thus grow in charity, and so on and so forth.

This is common sense when dealing with our own spiritual lives, however I think the maxim is similarly useful when encountering vices in others.

It is easy for the vices (or perceived vices) in others to not only provoke the same vice in us, but for us to somehow feel justified in reacting thus.

For instance, when faced with someone who seems to be in the throes of pride – as evidenced by grasping for attention, easily taking offense, seeking constant affirmation, acting self-concerned, etc – how quickly we respond in a prideful iteration of our own, and think it somehow neutral or even virtuous!

I often find myself for instance actively ignoring or shushing a young, loud relative I perceive as prideful. In my heart, I somehow feel like i’m teaching them a lesson or doing right by “not encouraging them”.

But what’s really going on here? Why are they seeking attention so? Why are they being loud? Why do they seem self-concerned? Certainly there may be an element of pride there, though that is between them and God. But could it also be that they are insecure? That they are hurt or lonely? How quickly my judgement of them causes me to respond with the same vice I presume to perceive.

I often wonder how many other people whose brokeness and insecurities cause them to act out, have only been pushed further into themselves because I myself have ignored them or responded with rudeness.

The younger relative I previously mentioned has many behavioral problems. Oftentimes he will be very short with people or even begin to throw a tantrum when he is riled up.

In the recent years, my interactions with him have become an insightful and humbling source of self-reflection for me.

I noticed that while his behavioral issues and his tantrums and his attention seeking was a great source of annoyance to me, I always responded with my own vices, and at the same time felt justified in my mind.

I would be “short” with him, because I felt he needed to be quieted. I would talk harshly because I thought he needed to be taught a lesson. I ignored him because I didn’t want to reward bad behavior. All these rationalizations contented me for years, but I have begun to realize more and more how I was simply justifying responding to vice (or percieved vice) with my own.

This of course brings me back to my original suggestion: We must not only to respond to our own vices by pursuing their corresponding virtues, but we must always seek to respond to any vice (or perceived vices) in others with the corollary virtue also.

What would happen if we responded to the seemingly prideful and self-absorbed person with humility? Listening to them, letting them be first, etc. What would happen if we responded to the selfish and greedy person with charity? Being generous to them, giving even though we are liable to be taken advantage of?

Certainly such acts would seem to follow the biblical call to “love your enemies and be good to those who persecute you”. In doing so, not only do we grow in love but we can offer up our sufferings for the good of such people and our own souls.

However, I think there is also some very smart but simple psychology going on here also.

We are always responsible for our own vice – I bring up psychology not to suggest sin is simply a “social issue” or something like that. However, we can see by a mere moment of self-reflection that a lot of these vices are often rooted in deeper fears and brokenesses

In our own lives such a realization should be no cause for us to justify our sin – we are still responsible. However we should use such a realization to bring us to empathy and mercy whenever we begin to feel judgmental of others.

Often, when we act out of pride or vanity, some of the driving forces of these are our insecurities, loneliness, depression, lack of (healthy) confidence, etc. Also, many who are prone to selfishness and greed have a deep seated fear of want, fear of dependence, fear of being taken advantage of, etc.

Again, these can be no excuse for our own personal vices, however they should come into play when we deal with others.

When we encounter vices in others or what we perceive to be vices when we are annoyed or offended and are tempted to respond by our own acts of pride, selfishness, gossip, ill-will, etc, I believe we ought to attempt to recognize what virtue is needed in the situation and attempt to fill that need.

Consider the great and wise prayer attributed Saint Francis of Assisi:

“Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury,pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive;
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen”

What it comes down to is this: whether there is a lack of God’s grace in another person or whether the lack is within us, our proper response should be to try to fill it with his love.

If there is a vice in another person, we should respond to it with virtue. Furthermore, if there is a loneliness, brokeness, or fear that is causing a person to act out, we must respond as an “instrument of peace” rather than responding with our own vices.

It should not only be our duty but our immense joy as Christians to love even the hateful person, to forgive the unforgiving person, to trust the mistrustful, to humble ourselves toward the prideful, and to give generously even to the greedy.

Our human instinct is to worry about being taken advantage of in these situations. To worry that all of our good work will simply be sucked into the black hole of anothers’ vices. However what a great honor and power to share in the sufferings of our Lord! Surely to be virtue in the face of vice embodies the very dying and rising we are called to.

As a final thought, consider the effects of responding to vices with virtue. Since the fall, sin and its effects have continued from one human to another like dominoes. We receive original sin, we experience personal sin, we experience the effects of sin, and we then respond with our own sins. As a result of this cycle, sin and its effects continue to compound and rebound and resound throughout the ages.

A grave but glorious question every human should consider is this: What will my effect be? As a member of the human race, I receive not only the tendency to sin myself but I experience the effects of the sins of others. Though this cannot be avoided, I and I alone can decide what happens to the sins that touch me.

Either these sins will be passed on, repeated, or even multiplied through my actions or… the sin will end in me.

I find this an astounding proposition: I cannot avoid the death, pain suffering, violence, fear, etc of this world, but I CAN be sure that they end with me.

I can emulate my lord in gladly accepting the pain, suffering, violence, fear, and other effects of sin that come to me, and letting them die in me. Christ took our sin and allowed it to be nailed to the cross with Him – in fact, to die with Him.

What if we were to emulate this! What if the annoyance, drama, gossip, selfishness, violence, greed, pride, lust and other vices that we encountered in the world were met with virtue in us? What if we were to take a stand and not allow these vices and their effects to live when we encountered them? What if we gladly soaked them up, gladly accepted the pain and suffering and turned it into only greater virtue, through God’s grace?

It is our choice. Either we are willing proponents of the infectious plague of sin and its effects, or we are those receive it, accept it, and let it die with us.

Thus, whenever we encounter sin or its effects – whether a vice in ourselves, a vice in others, or even simply the echoing effects of sin in the loneliness, insecurity, fear, brokeness, and others defects that cause so much acting out and unrest between humans – we should constantly exhort ourselves to joyfully embrace the situation and pursue the necessary virtues in it.

Because of Christ’s victory on the cross, the pursuit of virtue allows us not only to be healed of vice in ourselves but to heal and comfort others who suffer the same disease.

THIS is the greatness we are called to. THIS is the mission to which He has destined us. To be a channel of His peace wherever there is not peace, and to be His candle wherever there is darkness.

Every life is march from innocence, through temptation, to virtue or vice.
Lyman Abbott

The Christian ideal has not been tried and found wanting. It has been found difficult and left untried.
Gilbert K. Chesterton

If you look for truth, you may find comfort in the end; if you look for comfort you will not get either comfort or truth only soft soap and wishful thinking to begin, and in the end, despair.
C. S. Lewis